Emma didn't know when the hallway had blurred into his bedroom door, or how her fingers had found the knob.
All that existed now was William—his scent of cedar and clean skin, the steady heat radiating from his body, the low brush of his breath against her mouth.
Her back met the closed door with a soft thud. She tilted her head instinctively, offering more of her throat as his lips mapped a slow, deliberate path along her jaw, beneath her ear, down the sensitive column of her neck.
Each kiss pressed harder than the last, leaving a faint wet heat that made her shiver. Her pulse hammered beneath his mouth; she could feel it echo in the hollow of her collarbone.
"Emma," he murmured, voice rough and low, lips brushing the shell of her ear. The sound of her name in that gravel tone sent a fresh wave of warmth curling low in her belly.
